


Tall, Glasses and Handsome

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 09:06:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2304251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a week since Courfeyrac's moved into his new apartment, and it's probably the tenth time he's seen Tall, Glasses and Handsome. Not that he's counting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tall, Glasses and Handsome

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [AU prompt meme](http://kiyala.tumblr.com/post/96342034971) I'm doing on tumblr for #25. just keep running into each other everywhere

It's been a week since Courfeyrac's moved into his new apartment, and it's probably the tenth time he's seen Tall, Glasses and Handsome. Not that he's counting.

He's in the local supermarket doing his grocery shopping for the week. Tall, Glasses and Handsome is frowning at the potato in his hand and Courfeyrac is pretty sure that if potatoes could talk, this one would be telling him the answer to whatever he's frowning about. It's a nice frown, if probing, contemplative frowns are your thing. Which they apparently are, for Courfeyrac.

Tall, Glasses and Handsome looks up, his eyes meeting Courfeyrac's. There's a flicker of recognition in his expression and he smiles. Any hope Courfeyrac had of looking away disappears in an instant. He feels a little pathetic for it, but ignores that as he walks over with a smile of his own.

"You're the new guy in the apartment block," Tall, Glasses and Handsome says, offering the hand that isn't holding the potato. "I'm Combeferre. I live a couple of levels above you."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Courfeyrac." He's glad to have a name to the face. "And that would probably explain why I've seen you everywhere."

"Probably," Combeferre nods.

"Are you having potato troubles?" Courfeyrac asks, glancing at the potato that Combeferre still hasn't put down. "Can I help?"

"Probably." Combeferre bites his lip with embarrassment. "I'm trying out one of my mother's curry recipes but I'm a horrible cook. I don't even know if I'm getting the right potatoes."

"Well, luckily for you, I'm an excellent cook," Courfeyrac says. 

Which is how they end up having dinner together, because Courfeyrac helps with Combeferre's shopping while also doing his own. He offers to help Combeferre cook his curry and they end up making enough for two, eating at the dining table that is covered with more books and sheets of paper than Courfeyrac has any hope of counting. 

"Sorry for the mess." Combeferre looks chagrined as he pushes a stack of books to the side to make enough space for them to put their plates down. "I don't usually have company over for dinner. Not the kind that sits at the table, anyway. We're usually on the couch eating takeaway."

"I'm completely fine with moving to the couch," Courfeyrac offers, noticing the wistful way Combeferre glances in its direction. "That's more than fine with me."

Dinner very quickly turns into dinner and the sci-fi channel. They're playing the Star Wars prequels back to back and that sparks a discussion about the original trilogy versus the prequel trilogy that goes well past the point where they've finished eating. Their bowls are empty, sitting on the coffee table, and Combeferre is about the delve into the extended universe when Courfeyrac realises that he desperately wishes this was a date.

The thought makes his breath catch in his throat, makes him sit up a little straighter, and Combeferre mistakes the movement for a sign of boredom, apologies spilling from his mouth before Courfeyrac can stop him.

"I'm sorry, it's just that I don't even remember the last time I talked about Star Wars to someone and I feel _really strongly_ about it. I have a tendency to get carried away, I keep being told that, but—"

"It's fine," Courfeyrac interrupts. "I promise you, it's more than fine. It's great. This is really fun." 

Combeferre smiles cautiously. "But…?"

Courfeyrac doesn't quite know how to say _but I wish this was a date so it's not weird when I gaze at you adoringly_ , and he doesn't really want to make his excuses and leave yet. 

He clears his throat. "But what we really need to be doing is marathoning all six movies. Except not in release order or by episode number—"

"Oh!" Combeferre's eyes go wide and he grins. "Yeah, I watched them in Machete order and Ernest Rister order before. How attached are you to Episode One?"

"Well, if we're going to marathon them," Courfeyrac tells him seriously, "I believe we should be watching all six."

If possible, Combeferre's grin only grows wider. "My thoughts exactly. Let me just get my DVDs."

While he's gone, Courfeyrac gathers their bowls, taking them to the sink and rinsing them. He's walking back to the couch when Combeferre returns.

"You didn't have to," Combeferre chides gently.

"I know that. But considering I just invited myself over for a Star Wars marathon, I felt I should make it up to you somehow."

"You make it sound like this is something I actually mind," Combeferre mutters, taking Episode Four out of its case and putting it into the DVD player. "Which I assure you, I really don't. I've never been known to say no to Star Wars. Especially not with such good company."

Courfeyrac beams, sitting down on the couch and patting the space beside him until Combeferre joins him. They're close enough that their arms brush against each other and perhaps it should feel strange, because before today, Courfeyrac didn't even know Combeferre's name, or anything else about him. Instead, it feels perfectly comfortable, like this is something he's been doing all his life, something he _could_ do for all his life. He leans against Combeferre just a little, thrilled when Combeferre does the same in return. 

They relax against each other as they watch the movie, murmuring commentary to each other as they go. Courfeyrac is thrilled to find someone who doesn't mind his habit of talking about the things he likes best in his favourite movies, who does the same in return. 

He tries to remind himself that this is _not_ a date, but it's difficult every time he notices Combeferre's hand twitching towards him before going still. Combeferre keeps his gaze on the screen, though, so Courfeyrac does his very best to sit still and resist the urge to take Combeferre's hand into his own. 

"Do you want to keep going?" Combeferer asks, when they reach the end of Episode Four. 

"Please. That's not even a real question." It's late and Courfeyrac should probably leave Combeferre alone, should probably go back to his apartment, but it's the weekend. He can afford to stay up late and watch movies with his ridiculously hot neighbour. He promises himself that at the first sign that Combeferre is tired, or wants him gone, he'll make his excuses and leave. 

Combeferre sits down on the couch again once the next movie is in the DVD player. He's even closer to Courfeyrac this time, their sides pressed together. 

"Okay, hear me out," Courfeyrac says quietly, and Combeferre goes very still. "I'm going to be honest with you. This is the point where I'd do the classic yawn and stretch, except I'm tiny and it's not going to work on you, so you're going to have to take one for the team and do it instead."

Combeferre blinks at him, then laughs. It's a soft, fond chuckle that sets a thousand butterflies loose in Courfeyrac's stomach. "Take one for the team?"

"If you want," Courfeyrac replies, as casually as possible. "Unless I'm misreading absolutely everything, in which case, whoops."

"You're not," Combeferre assures him. "But yawn and stretch? Really? Do I have to?"

"Well, how else—" Courfeyrac goes silent when Combeferre lifts his arm and gestures for him to come closer. "Oh." 

"Yeah." Waiting until Courfeyrac shuffles closer, Combeferre brings his arm down around his shoulders. "No pretenses. I prefer being upfront about what I want." 

"Do you?" Grinning, Courfeyrac tilts his head. "What do you want?"

"To kiss you. To watch Episode Five. Kiss you some more. In that order." 

"Mm, I think we can arrange that."

They're smiling against each other's lips when they kiss. Combeferre hits the play button and if they kiss some more while they're watching, well, neither of them mind.


End file.
